


water to the root

by sweetaugustblue



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, One Shot, honestly neither of them can but they make it work, riza hawkeye cannot deal, roy mustang is the most affectionate man on earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24672661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetaugustblue/pseuds/sweetaugustblue
Summary: There’s a sliver of a moment where she’s looking at him that he can feel her gaze, thick and warm and making him shiver, then feels her eyes trail down to the porch steps. She’s reigned herself back in—back to her senses. He has not. [royai one shot - comfort, fluff, mutual pining, royai being royai, what else can i say?]
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	water to the root

**Author's Note:**

> i had... a lot of thoughts about the strange little signs of affection that roy and riza have... and then post promised day ideas came into my head and here we are! this was just some silly prompt that turned into a royai one shot! (why are all my good one shots royai? what is up with that?)

There is some time after their stay in the hospital post Promised Day that Roy Mustang doesn’t have time to talk with his First Lieutenant. It isn’t just passing conversation during work hours, or the usual good morning _good morning sir_ how are you _fine sir,_ tea? _of course sir_ conversation, either.

No. It’s the quiet talks. _Private_ talks.

They haven’t had a shred of privacy since their stay together in that hospital room. There was so much privacy in that room that he almost got _comfortable._ It’s not her fault that he had gotten used to time alone together, but his time feels as if it has gaps in it, especially with his newly acquired blindness. He spends more time outside when he can’t do paperwork, and tries to recite his literature books to himself as much as he can from memory. There’s a lot more time to himself now, and time to sit on his thoughts and realize that something’s missing.

 _Hawkeye_ is missing.

Which only serves to irritate him, because it doesn’t make any damn sense. She’s around all the time, and they still get passing conversation, some words here and there over tea.

Just no time to themselves.

Colonel Mustang makes his way back into the looming building of Eastern Command, beginning to pack his things and get ready to head home for the day. He hears the Lieutenant before he sees her, only by the swish of the door as it swings quickly open and right into the wall.

“...Lieutenant?”

“I’m going home for the day.” She states curtly, shuffling around the room for a minute before standing right next to where he’s organized everything.

“...Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Lieu—”

“Actually,” she pauses him, “there’s quite a bit of traffic today, sir. There was a minor collision on the main road of your route home, and if you would give me permission, I would like to make sure you can return home safely.” Her breath is still steady by the time she finishes speaking.

The laugh sitting in his throat comes out in a breath. “Sure, alright.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And so they walk, Hawkeye a step behind him like usual. The street he lives on is quiet by this hour, and there’s no one around except an elderly woman sitting on her front porch a block away, drinking something steamy while watching the sun begin its descent.

“The sky is quite orange today, sir,” Hawkeye says plainly after a while. “Sailor’s delight,” she adds with a laugh.

“What other colors are there?” Mustang asks, tilting his head upwards.

He doesn’t see it, but she blinks in surprise for a moment, then looks off to the horizon, the houses, the empty street.

“There’s green leaves on the trees,” she starts, noticing his house up ahead, “and there’s a pink cloud about fifty-five degrees above you. The moon is in one of its crescent phases.”

“What else?” One of his hands pulls his keys out of his pocket.

“Your house… it’s white, with blue trim, and the plants in your window somehow look healthy.” He laughs with his whole chest before letting her continue. As they reach the porch steps her words falter just the slightest.

“Your keys are gold and metallic, and your hand…”

“Lieutenant?”

“You’ve spent so much time outside that… your skin is tan,” she trails off, lips closing.

They stand there for a moment, one of Mustang’s feet in between the door and the entryway, the other facing her. He can’t see it, but Hawkeye’s lips open to form words—instead, she sighs, quietly and almost inaudibly. In fact, if he hadn’t been so hopefully listening for that sound of hesitation, he probably would have never heard her breath at all. There’s a sliver of a moment where she’s looking at him that he can feel her gaze, thick and warm and making him _shiver,_ then feels her eyes trail down to the porch steps. She’s reigned herself back in—back to her senses.

He has not.

“Lieutenant, how many people are out on the street right now?”

“...None.”

“Would you come inside with me for a minute?” His breath rushes to a stop.

“Only to water your plants, sir.”

He chuckles to himself. They both cross the threshold. Him first—he knows the house by memory, right down to the shift of weight that causes the floorboards to creak every time he enters through the door. Hawkeye’s feet expertly evade it, perceptive as she is, and for a moment he doesn’t know where she is in the room.

Roy extends a hand out, looking for the wall, and lands it upon the smooth plane of her uniformed shoulder. She flinches in surprise, turning around to look into eyes that cannot see her.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back apprehensively to his side.

His First Lieutenant shuts and locks the door with a soft click. “It’s alright.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t mind if…”

“If what, Lieutenant?”

She reaches her hand out to grip his upper arm, gentle, _shy,_ even, in reassurance. “I don’t mind if it’s you, sir.”

He smiles shakily to avoid choking from shock. There’s enough time to contain himself before he slips off his jacket and boots, padding to the kitchen to get his Lieutenant a cup of water.

The plant really doesn’t need water, so she nudges it gently into the fading sunlight. As she gazes in silence outside, she begins to get desperate for words that aren’t the _right_ words. She’s never been one for long words, even with him, but still—the things they said in that hospital room, the nights she spent with her bed pushed closer to his and her fingers curled in his hand—it was all starting to be too much to bear.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’d crossed that line. They’d done so after her father died, during Ishval, even after Hughes’s murder.

“Tea, Lieutenant?” He asks, flicking on the stove. His voice pulls her from her thoughts; it is rather relieving.

“Sure, Colonel. The box all the way to the right—jasmine, please,” she responds, stifling a laugh under a sigh when his hands slide smoothly across the wood and fish for the tea bags.

“I have to sniff out tea when I’m alone, you know,” he jokes, setting the kettle on the burner.

Silence settles thick between them. It is hard to name the longing, let alone speak it out loud. 

He pours their tea quietly. Their cups are a conversation of clinks on mismatching porcelain dishes. Roy begins to notice the pattern of her sipping—always two sips at a time, a small pause, the tinny sound of her cup hitting the dish. He’s not even sure if she’s aware of her subconscious rhythm. It’s musical to listen to.

“I don’t mind either, you know,” he says finally. _Carefully._

There’s a quick intake of breath, then the sound of her cup on the wood of the table this time.

“Colonel?”

“I don’t mind if it’s you,” he responds quietly, tilting his unseeing eyes up to her long stare.

There’s a pause, then Riza rises slowly from her seat across from the table to approach him. A moment of apprehension freezes her body before she shakes it off, and her hand touches down on his shoulder from where he sits, smoothing over wrinkles that aren’t really there. Roy takes the moment to lean into her just the slightest, pressing the back of his head to her chest and smiling.

That ache he’s felt for weeks suddenly subsides, replaced by the feeling of her warm fingers stroking his shoulder. It is so gentle, so impossibly soothing.

It doesn’t feel real.

“Hawkeye,” he murmurs heavily, rising to his feet. Her hand slips back to her side.

“Sir?”

His arms are unhurried in embracing her. Riza doesn’t move, doesn’t step away or object. When his arms do finally wrap around her completely, one hand cupping the back of her neck and tucking her in the crook of his shoulder, she can do nothing but sink quite heavily into him. Her hands grasp at his wide back, pulling him close.

“It has only ever been you,” Roy whispers quietly.

“I know.” She responds, smiling into his chest.

They stay like that for some time, one of his hands stroking her head, one of hers brushing over his back. It is a gentle touch—an understanding touch.

A touch that says _your pain is my pain_. A comfort, a soft-spoken _I have been missing you_ touch.

In the window Roy’s plants stand tall, reaching for warmth. The soil is already damp; Roy and Riza stand tangled together in one eight-limbed heap of a body—warm, unmoving.

**Author's Note:**

> okay... if you see this, please please forgive me for my lack of updates on my other fic. i promised an update 3 months ago and well... the pandemic happened, and i had a very long hard time adjusting to being in school and having to pick up a second job. HOWEVER—the fic is open right now in my other tab, i just had to stop to get some royai thoughts down in words. i promise an update is coming, i'm just working on the outline and nitpicking little plot details. i really want everyone to enjoy FLWW so please know I HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN IT! IT IS WORKING!! and i'm happy to say that now i've adjusted to home life with my two jobs and practicing violin much more often... as well as some other spiritual endeavors that have considerably risen my spirits during this very difficult time. i hope you are all doing well and taking care of yourselves. i've been donating to some causes as well as raising money and trying to do some healing, so bear with me! ok thx love you! bye!


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